Mitch Sisskind - Correspondent at Large

May 16, 2011

Isaac Singer stated that God is a pulp fiction writer, a supremely gifted and creative author of page-turner melodramas. If you seek to know The Truth, read Sidney Sheldon or Jackie Collins! Certainly the vignette of the "caviar socialist" who allegedly came charging naked out of the bathroom like a rutting rhinoceros is a master stroke. And the photo above -- which has the ambiance of Rembrandt's "Night Watch" -- is even better: the divine Author playing with the image of Monsieur Strauss-Kahn "frog marched" from the police station. Just the best! Hats off! God is great! Sh'ma Yisrael!

-- Mitch S.

May 12, 2011

We've been going to McDonalds in the morning for the past few weeks. At this early hour I look even more like Pruneface than usual. I'm grateful to Rachel for being seen with me, much less hanging out with me. I'm also grateful for her discussing Bible stories with me in a completely unselfconscious way. There are points in the clip where we may seem ironic or sarcastic -- but no. As Hemingway wrote, this is a "clean well-lighted place." Or at least fairly clean, and the oatmeal is a little too sweet.

April 29, 2011

Bob Schieffer, who covered the Confederate surrender at Appomatox, says that Trump's demand for Obama to release his school transcripts is a racist insult!

What would Dick the Bruiser do?

Trump says, 'That’s a terrible statement for a newscaster to make! I am the last person that such a thing should be said about! Affirmative action is out there! It's a program that’s available! But I have no idea whether it applies in this case! I'm not suggesting anything!

April 28, 2011

Many years ago I attended a demonstration against the Vietnam War. There was a television crew from CBS filming the event, recognizable by the "eye" logo on the side of the cameras. I noticed that the network had hired motorcycle gang members as security guards. A bright idea! The Rolling Stones followed up on it a few years later at Altamont. On that day I felt like my eyes started to open to some realities of how things like government and media really worked. How cynical and brutal they were at the core. My eyes have opened and closed many times since then. But now, as Dr. King preached "I'm not worried about anything. I don't fear any man." And as the song says, "I was blind but now I see."

I see, for example, that professional wrestling -- especially as it existed in the early days of television -- is the best template for seeing what Donald Trump is doing, and also for understanding the spectrum of public responses to Trump. I want to say also that I fully support Trump and my only worry is that he'll "drop out." He has the power and the know how to really drive people crazy, just like 1950s villains such as "Nature Boy" Buddy Rogers could do. There really is no other way to comprehend (and enjoy) Trump except as a old time pro wrestling bad guy!

Trump's baiting Obama about the birth certificate is a perfect example. Months ago Trump said that he would release his tax returns if Obama released his birth certificate. So now that Trump has succeeded in forcing Obama to release the certificate, one of Obama's flunkies (Gates) challenges Trump to do what he promised. But do you think Trump is going to go for that? What would Buddy Rogers have done? Yukon Eric? Dick the Bruiser? Needless to say, Trump doesn't even respond to Gates. Instead, he calls Gates "a loser" -- which of course he is compared to Trump. Why? Because Trump has more money! Because Trump has a sexy wife!

Oh, and does this make you angry? Does this make you feel like the furious pro wrestling crowd in Memphis felt when Andy Kaufman told them to "shut up or I'll sue you"? Trump can REALLY make the elites nuts and I say bring it on. This is the closest thing we will get to a real court jester.

And by the way, Obama is the ideal pro wrestling "good guy," the perfect target for Trump. And let's not forget: sometimes the good guy would turn into a bad guy, or be revealed as a bad guy all along. If it's done right -- and so far Trump has been a master -- there's really no telling how it will play out. But usually there would be a big showdown match that promised to resolve things once and for all. We'll see.

Yes, it is the daughter who stretches Her young body, not some grandmother And still less a dithering old grandpappy. This is simply the natural order of things. Although W.B. Yeats had monkey balls Implanted in his scrotum, he knew this

And wrote, ‘That is no country for old men’ Apropos of which Mosemolleus Tronsork Notes how country in a literary context Always means cunt. Thus, Hamlet to Ophelia(III:ii), with his head in her lap, ‘Did you think I meant country matters?’

Thus also in Dustin Hoffman’s revolutionary Portrayal of Willy Loman, Biff is horrified Not that Willy is tired, defeated, limp, Flaccid, drooping, detumescent, suffering From erectile dysfunction, and old, But that he still wants to do it, whereupon

Biff discovers Willy with a whore. That is Georges Bataille’s definition Of obscenity: ‘Showing what should Be hidden.’ Take it to heart, seniors. Were I to write a poem about getting A room with a hot twenty year old

UCSB anthropology major with a tattoo Of the Greek letter omega above her ass Would you or anyone want to read it? I don’t think so, and I don’t blame you. Twenty years old? Smokin’ hot? Feh! Omega tattoo above her ass? Feh! Feh!

March 13, 2011

Drilled through the kishkes in ’44 He subsequently worked for The old Central Electric Company On Washington Boulevard until Mr. Achtboim died in 1956. Then came what Leo and Ruth Manasin Always called the cow magnet years.

Cow magnets: bits of iron swallowed By cows to which adhered any Gum wrappers, bailing wire, nails, Or what have you that a grazing cow Might ingest, thereby creating a mass Of sufficient bulk to travel through The digestive system of the cow.

It was the brain child of Jim Porter, A Wisconsin veterinarian who said, ‘I got tired of tramping barnyards ‘On cold mornings to vaccinate hogs ‘At five dollars a shot so I dreamed up ‘The cow magnet. They said I was crazy ‘But with a hundred million cows

‘In America the dairy and beef industries ‘Would pay two bucks per magnet to keep ‘A herd of cows from coming down ‘With the so-called Hardware Disease.’ Not long after Mr. Achtboim passed away, Steve Drago introduced Jim Porter To Leo Manasin at Nippersink Manor.

At that time a sort of black cloud seemed To hover over Leo Manasin’s head. Although Mr. Achtboim was no saint, He was the pater familias that Leo Manasin Needed in the post-war years when lingering Effects of his wounds imbued every moment With a vague unconscious sense of dread.

Now this man Jim Porter entered the picture. Here was a new pater familias, possibly An improved version of Mr. Achtboim, Who offered Leo Manasin the position Of cow magnet sales rep for the Wisconsin, Illinois, and Indiana territories in which Resided tens of thousands of cows.

But Leo Manasin hesitated. He ruminated. He looked skeptically at a future in which He would call on dairy farmers with A satchel of cow magnets in his lap while Over a blue propane flame water boiled For instant coffee in farmhouse kitchens Of stained linoleum and peeling wallpaper.

He was a city boy after all, a Jewish fella Whose occasional exposure to anti-Semitism Made him leery of many (not all) goyim. Jim Porter seemed like an honest goy, And now Jim Porter allayed Leo Manasin’s Fears about the future with some simple Truths about the cow magnet business.

As the veterinarian explained, most magnets Were bought in bulk by feed company Executives over lunch in the grill room of The Cliff Dwellers Club where past members Included Cyrus McCormick, George Armour, And Rufus C. Dawes, and not bought by farmers With a load of manure out in the dump truck.

This mollified Leo Manasin and he was soon Turning heads in the cow magnet industry. Sales of a hundred or two hundred gross Were run of the mill for Leo Manasin In the grill room of the Cliff Dwellers Club And it was there that he met Chester Schultz, The heir to a milking machine fortune.

Chester Shultz shrewdly took the measure Of this family man named Leo Manasin, This war veteran who sold cow magnets For a living and -- liking what he saw -- Chester Schultz took Leo Manasin under His wing and began making discreet Overtures to Leo Manasin about a job.

These discreet overtures, these coy hints, The innuendoes, the asides, the ingratiating Small confidences, the verbal nosegays, The divertimenti – they also had a deeper Purpose, a much more sober intention. The discreet overtures were the foundation For the hiring of Leo Manasin by Chester Schultz.

It was a very nice employment package that Chester Schultz offered with substantially Larger revenues to Leo Manasin in exchange For less work -- because once milking machines Were leased out there was nothing to do Except deposit the checks which would represent Leo Manasin’s salary plus a generous commission.

And since milking machine leases were always Rolled over, Leo Manasin could be set for life! A home in Lincolnwood on a double lot, A Buick, an Olds, or even a Cadillac convertible In the garage; a country club membership; And a summer house in Sauganash, Michigan; All this was possible with Chester Schultz!

Only one small matter remained: Jim Porter Must be told of Leo Manasin’s decision to forsake His pater familias and cleave to this wealthierMannamed Chester Schultz, this man whom Leo Manasin met at the very Cliff Dwellers Club Where Jim Porter was footing the bill for Leo Mansain’s lunches of broiled whitefish.

But then occurred one of the eerie Turning points that we encounter in life, One of the head-scratching moments In which our decisions seem to be made By some external agency and we can only Look back on the decisions as they fade In the rearview mirror of our years

Like a roadside restaurant where we ate Something but what exactly did we eat? This eerie turning point in Leo Manasin’s life Occurred at the bar mitzvah of his son Mickey At Temple B’nai Zion on Pratt Avenue Where Leo Manasin had naches – that is, pride In his child –as he made small talk with Jim Porter.

This was in the hospitality room where, After the ceremony, cold cuts were being served. There Leo Manasin felt an unexpected surge Of emotion, a cresting wave of affection For the mannamed Jim Porter, and all at once It seemed unimaginable to Leo Manasin that He could ever disassociate himself from Jim Porter.

What caused the unexpected surge of emotion? First, it was Jim Porter attending the bar mitzvah And also the sight of Jim Porter wearing a kippah, A yarmulke. In fact, the sight of Jim Porter wearing A kippah was a great honor to the Manasin family As a whole: to Leo, Ruth, Mickey, and Melissa, Who was also known as Missy or Lissie.

The remarkable thing was how comfortable, How relaxed Jim Porter looked, as if he’d Worn a kippah all his life. Whereupon It occurred to Leo Manasin that perhaps The veterinarian could convert to Judaism. There could be bar mitzvah for Jim Porter And if necessary he could be circumcised..

What a mitzvah it would be for Leo Manasin To bring about the conversion of Jim Porter To Judaism! The thought of Jim Porter reciting The sh’ma almost brought tears to the eyes Of Leo Manasin -- and Jim Porter also seemed Sensitive to the moment. He spoke not a word But put his hand on Leo Manasin’s shoulder

And guided Leo Manasin toward a quiet Corner of the B’nai Zion hospitality room. There in a voice charged with feeling, Jim Porter said to Leo Manasin, ‘Leo, ‘I want you to know that come what may ‘In the cow magnet business, regardless of ‘What happens in the cow magnet business,

‘No matter what may or may not occur ‘In the cow magnet business, good or bad, ‘You and your family will be taken care of ‘Forever because of the hard work and ‘Loyalty you’ve given to the organization ‘Since that day at Nippersink Manor when ‘We were introduced by Steve Drago.’

Late that night, after the gala celebration In the Hyatt at 4500 West Touhy Avenue, After all the singing and all the dancing And the many clever toasts, Leo Manasin Lay awake as a voluptuous sense of relief Washed over him, subsuming even his Naches about Mickey Manasin’s bar mitzvah.

The phrase ‘dodged a bullet’ occurred To this man who’d been drilled through The kishkes in ’44. He saw that a personal And professional catastrophe had nearly Happened when he came so close To deserting Jim Porter, that mensch, By going to work for Chester Schultz.

What a mess that would have made. What a train wreck it would have been. It would have been like a twelve car pileup On the interstate during the rush hour. It shouldn’t happen to a dog, and fortunately It didn’t happen. Willy-nilly, Leo Manasin Had made the right decision in the end.

So the cow magnet years continued and To his credit Chester Schultz took no Offense at what for him was the very Unaccustomed experience of a rejected Job offer. Leo Manasin and Chester Schultz Even took steam together occasionally In the Cliff Dwellers Club steam room.

And Jim Porter’s conversion to Judaism? Leo Manasin now saw it as a hare-brained Scheme, heart-felt and well-intentioned, But brought on by the emotional turmoil In which Leo Manasin found himself that day Amid the bar mitzvah’s hugger-mugger and The hurly-burly of the Chester Schultz affair.

No, Leo Manasin was not leading the most Exciting life but as long as there were Cows there would be cow magnets And for that he had Jim Porter to thank. ‘Leo, come what may,’ Jim Porter had said, ‘You will be taken care of -- you and Ruth ‘And Mickey and little Melissa Manasin.’

But ‘always’ is such a long time About which to make promises -- And must not ‘always’ always end? One day Leo Manasin arrived At the modest downtown office Maintained by Jim Porter and Found two men waiting at the door.

Since Leo Manasin had come downtown To meet a couple of buyers from the William M. Glass Company, he asked, ‘Are you the guys from William M. Glass?’ They said, ‘No, we are the guys from ‘The Internal Revenue Service but ‘You may call it the IRS if you prefer.’

Thus concluded the cow magnet years And thus did ‘always’ come to an end. It was not for lack of effort on Jim Porter’s part but understanding The digestive system of a cow is not like Running a business where the damn Complexities can make your head spin.

It did not happen all at once. For weeks, Months, almost a year the cow magnet Business stayed more or less afloat but What with judgments and liens and even The possibility of a criminal case against Jim Porter brewing, Leo Manasin saw That the party was over once and for all.

Nights Leo Manasin lay awake kicking Himself, asking himself why, why, why? The image of Chester Shultz appeared Like a ghost in the darkness, mocking him, Making faces at him and tossing money Into the air or feeding it to some obnoxious Animal – a cow? – that he’d brought along.

Mornings Leo Manasin was agitated, Irritable, he couldn’t sit still to read The newspaper, yet at the same time He was exhausted and often fell asleep In front of the television set. He snapped At people for no reason but he also wept Uncontrollably in the laundry room

Where, pathetically, the washing machine Drowned out his sobs. This was a far blacker Cloud than the cloud that hovered over Leo Manasin’s head when Mr. Achtboim died. This cloud rapidly descended and engulfed Leo Manasin until he became invisible To his own family in his own home.

Meanwhile Mickey Manasin became obsessed With motorcycles, literalizing his desire To escape the Manasin family’s dismal Twenty-eight hundred square foot home In favor of the open horizons celebrated In the Bob Seger anthem ‘Against the Wind’ Which he kept blaring in the garage all day.

Melissa Manasin was now called Mel. Missy? Lissie? Are you kidding me? At seventeen Mel radiated a hard, Wised-up sexuality that scared away The high school boys, so she blew off school And worked downtown at the Furniture Mart Where at least a few guys knew how to fuck.

As for Ruth Manasin, she mourned her life’s Reduced circumstances, a life now sustained by Social security and the savings accounts which, Thank God, she had insisted on opening during The cow magnet years. As Ruth mourned, She saw too how Leo Manasin was suffering, Was deteriorating, was no longer the same man.

Money alone could not account for his misery, Ruth Manasin concluded. The black cloud that Now engulfed Leo Manasin seemed like it had Always been there and always would be there. Cow magnets, aging, even disappointment In the children could not begin to explain what Ruth Manasin observed each day in Leo Manasin.

He lay on the sofa, defeated and deflated, In boxer shorts and undershirt. By the way, He’d lost a leg to diabetes. His snoring briefly Seemed louder as Ruth Manasin turned off The television set, but then came a diminuendo In the snoring until there was only the low Rumble of the refrigerator motor in the kitchen.

Perhaps we haven’t really gotten to know Ruth -- but a favorite expression of hers was ‘I have news for you’ and another was ‘Let’s call a spade a spade.’ In that spirit (Though it broke her heart) she now saw Leo Manasin as a lovable schmuck, A putz, a wounded veteran whose wounds

Never really had a chance to heal before he went To work for the old Central Electric Company And found a pater familias in Elmer Achtboim And then another pater familias in Jim Porter. But essentially he was a tearful little boy Desperately looking for someone to protect him Which caused him to make a really terrible

Business decision about Chester Schultz. Though he had been a good provider in the Cow magnet years, she felt that Leo Manasin Had let his heart get in the way of his head About Jim Porter. Then it went all belly up. She loved Leo Manasin but she mainly felt sorry For him like on All My Children or One Life to Live.

As Leo Manasin opened his eyes Ruth loomed Above him, upside down from his viewpoint But an angelic vision of a benevolent old woman. Could this be his grandmother, whom he had Called the Buba? Then came a cresting wave Of emotion like that other cresting wave At the bar mitzvah when Jim Porter had said,

‘Leo, you will always be taken care of.’ How loved he had felt then and also now, With the TV off, the thankless children gone. As is our destiny at the moment of death He was changed into a great tzaddik Who reveals himself at last, and at last Is to himself revealed. ‘Sh’ma Yisrael…’

With his final breath he proclaimed the sh’ma! No mitzvah is greater than this one! Thus did Rav Shimon bar Yochai depart this life And thus did Leo Manasin also depart it!‘Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad!’ His soul swept past the Heavenly Tribunal And was received at once in the Upper Worlds!

February 14, 2011

Charles Parker known as Yardbird For his love of chicken whether Fried or roasted sometimes performedOn a toy saxophone and occasionallyDozed off on the bandstand or failedTo show up altogether. He was Jewish.

Of Lizzie Douglas also referredTo as Memphis Minnie it was saidShe could naturally play a guitarBut would put the guitar downTo turn a trick for two dollars.Her bat mitzvah was in 1910.

Tennessee-born Fred McDowell They called Mississippi Fred McDowell When in Lafayette County around 1949He taught open-tuned guitar to R.L. Burnside.Those men loved kreplach soup.Gedempte fleisch? They fressed.

Such are the nistarim, the Hidden Ones!‘Peradventure if ten be found there, ‘For ten’s sake I will spare Sodom.’ Amen!

January 11, 2011

You and I, my love, so many nights Driving on Clybourne past the Golden Ox In the years I was with Harrison Table Mat And later when I joined Quick Service Textiles At Walter Gips’ urging we still spoke frequently Of the Golden Ox and planned to eat there. (But we never ate at the Golden Ox And now we never will.)

Remember, darling, when I was repping Joe Cronin’s line of junk jewelry and we met A man -- his name? his name? – who By way of recommending the Golden Ox Rhapsodized about the zwiebelfleish? Oh, what was his name? Indindoli? (But we never ate at the Golden Ox And now we never will.)

That man, him, our talk with him to the wee hours, How he read Kane and Abel and how Albeit facetiously he bequeathed to me His bowling ball. But I digress. As love For the Golden Ox was his be all and end all So you were my ne plus ultra, my inamorata. (But we never ate at the Golden Ox And now we never will.)

January 03, 2011

Fifteen years in the making, and issue number seven of The Stud Duck is now available for your perusal! What's more, some of your favorite authors from The Best American Poetry blog are included. Feast your eyes on the contents of The Stud Duck #7 ---->>>

Reading The Stud Duck online couldn't be easier! Just click on the link below or paste it into your browser and the whole thing will open before your eyes like a land of dreams. You can even print it out to keep in your library, or email the link to your friends. But be patient! A document this dense with thought and feeling takes a moment to load on your screen. But it will happen!

I hope you enjoy this edition of The Stud Duck and that you'll look forward to the next issue as well. Number eight will be done on March 1, so if you'd like to submit poems, prose, photos, or drawings, you can do so at studduckmail@gmail.com. Onward! Man muss immer weiter gehen!

December 09, 2010

For more than a year now I've resided only a few blocks from the little cemetery where Marilyn Monroe's crypt may be found. This cemetery is in the middle of the busy Westwood area of Los Angeles, near UCLA, but it can't be seen from the street. You have to know where to find it and you have to make some time to go there. So one day last week, on my way home from the library, I set aside some time. It was easy, because I really don't have anything very important to do.

I found Marilyn's crypt without difficulty and placed a dime on top of her brass name plate. There was quite a bit of change there already although none shows in this picture. The truth is I've never been very interested in Marilyn Monroe. But whenever I think of Laurette Luez, the actress pictured below -- and I think of her quite often -- I remember Marilyn as well. You see, it was Laurette Luez who thought of a new name for Norma Jeane Baker.

Laurette was in the same "freshman class" of Hollywood starlets as Marilyn. She had a theory that an effective name should unconsciously call to mind some powerful association. In Laurette's own case it was "Suez," which she hoped would suggest smoldering exoticism. For Marilyn it's a little trickier. One explanation might be the link between President James Monroe and the so-called "Era of Good Feeling."

Well, I'll let you young people go along your way now. But before I depart, some of you -- or at least one of you -- may be wondering why I so often think of Laurette Luez.

Very well! Laurette Luez starred in a film called "Prehistoric Women," made in 1950. It had first first produced as a silent in the 1920s and was remade again in the late 60s. It's a great film in its way and I recommend it to anyone who has a chance to see it. One of the best scenes is a catfight between cave girl Laurette and her rival -- I'll have to look up her name -- who was actually even hotter than the lead actress. A cunning bit of casting there!

And now, the dénouement! One day in 1988 I was speaking with Roger Corman, the famous low budget producer and director, for whom I had just written a script called "Quest of the Sword Mistress." The film was going to be shot in Peru and before he signed off on it Corman wanted to make sure there were enough breast reveals -- one every ten pages or so. Corman seemed to me like a deeply bi-polar individual. Sometimes garrulous, sometimes dour, and often a bit sadistic with the poor schmucks who were reduced to working for him. In any case, as he leafed absently through the pages of my script I heard myself asking, "Roger, did you ever see a movie called Prehistoric Women?"

December 06, 2010

That's right! The bullshit stops now! It's been fifteen years since the last issue of The Stud Duck rolled off the presses -- and we think it's quite enough time, thank you very much. So an entirely new issue of this amazing literary magazine is going to hit the newsstands before Christmas. And we don't mean Christmas of 2020 or Christmas of 2015. We mean less than three weeks from today!

Jerry Pudnik is the Publisher of The Stud Duck.

Yes, issue number seven of The Stud Duck is coming your way. Not just in cyberspace either. We're talking about real paper and real ink. And it's going to be FREE too -- but only if (and it's a big if) you can get your hands on one of the very limited number of copies we can afford to print in this sinking economy. So keep your eyes right here on The Best American Poetry to find out how you can get your copy of The Stud Duck 7 come Christmas!

But that's not all! Not by a long shot!

We're inviting readers of The Best American Poetry (that means you) to have your work appear in The Stud Duck. Poems, stories, non-fiction memoirs of prom nights or bar mitzvahs gone awry, photographs, drawings -- please send them to studduckmail@gmail.com. We will judiciously select ten submissions for inclusion in The Stud Duck 7. Judges decisions are final!

Plus, the ten worthy authors will each receive a valuable copy of one of the original Stud Duck issues from the mid-nineties! Squirrel it away, pass it on to your children -- or you can make a mobile! But one thing is certain: unless you've got a time machine, there won't be any more where these came from!

All submissions must be received by noon Pacific time on Monday, December 13! That email address again one more time: studduckmail@gmail.com

Mitch Sisskind is the Editor of The Stud Duck

Parting thoughts...

Words of wisdom:

Everything dies And that's a fact But everything that dies Someday comes back!

And how about what the old prizefighter told his son in Sylvester Stallone's film entitled Rocky Balboa:

"It's not how hard you can hit that matters! It's how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward!"

Right on both counts! The Stud Duck is back and The Stud Duck is moving forward! That's why the new subtitle for The Stud Duck is going to be "Man muss immer weiter gehen" -- which means "One must always go further" in German!

October 25, 2010

Last week I noticed the post on this site announcing a poetry contest on the occasion of LeBron James' joining the Miami Heat basketball team.

For some reason this put me in mind of the Iliad, which I first read around 1950 as "The Golden Book of the Iliad" -- a masterful rendition by the way, which I later learned was also an early inspiration to Joseph (Joe) Heller.

Nestor, the grandfatherly blabbermouth, has always been my favorite Homeric character and I have even written a poem in which Nestor acquires three Viagra tablets from Athena and thereby manages to change the course of the Trojan War.

But that's another story. Regarding the LeBraon James contest, I tried to imagine how Nestor would respond. Surely for instance he would immediately disqualify himself by exceeding the six line length limit. And in comparing LeBron James to basketball players of the past, he would be in his habitual mode of "there simply are no men like that now," as W.H.D. Rouse expresses it in his very useful and forceful prose translation. I believe Nestor would also include at least one line in a foreign language in order to showcase his mastery of many tongues.

The Iliad

He is almost a foot Taller than Calvin MurphyWas but can he dribbleTwo basketballs the lengthOf the court and thenDunk them both?Yo pienso que no.

Remember how Bill RussellShot underhand free throws?His percentage stank like poo-pooBut when money was on the tableHe was strong black coffeeFrom the line and this too was Unlike LeBron.

Pro teams used to practice in The gym where I taught high school.Chamberlain, Chet Walker, Jerry West,I saw them all up close and in truthThe only one who acted like a human Being was Tom Boerwinkle so let's haveA poem contest for the man from Tennessee!

September 20, 2010

This poem is part of my "autobiography as SAT test" project. Read the poem, then answer the question that follows. The correct answer and explanation are below.

The Jewish Biker

Like a motherfucker he roseAt dawn winter mornings And snowplowed driveways.

Spring nights when rain pouredHe disinfected flooded basements With Lysol like a motherfucker.

All week like a motherfuckerHe worked in the parts department At the Western Avenue Harley dealer.

He used to say, ‘You won’t ‘See me riding Japanese iron.‘You won’t see me riding bitch.’

When his old lady had a miscarriage He fished it out of the toilet. Why?Maybe the doctor wanted to see it.

Yet he was Jewish! His name was Zebelman! His mother volunteered In the Weiss Hospital gift shop!>> The character in this poem is loosely based on:a. Mickey Kalisonb. Tony Dragoc. Julius Jaffed. Leon Wellse. Charley Livingston

The correct answer is 'a,' Mickey Kallison.

Tony Drago was the very sweet tempered son of Steve and MillieDrago. His sister was Roseanne. For a time Tony Drago was employedas a greeter in a funeral home.

Julius Jaffe was the attorney for the Harrison Wholesale Company.His most memorable utterance was, 'But then you're dipping into principal.'

Leon Wells was an employee of the old Central Electric Company who argued that the power of the Roman Empire came from the legionaries' consumption of honey.

Charley Livingston, like my father, was an alumnus of the Jewish Orphans Homein Cleveland. He lived by himself in the Rienzi Hotel on Diversey Avenue.

Regarding the poem's first stanza, Mickey Kallison invested in a snowplow for his truck and picked up some extra cash clearing driveways in Skokie and Lincolnwood,Illinois. Although I don't know that he also disinfected basements, there did come atime when Bob Kallison (Mickey's father, and my uncle) wanted to disinfect hisown basment after a rain. When Bob was unable to buy disinfectant anywhere,he declared, "There was no Lysol in Skokie!" with such fervor that the memory of it has stayed with me forty years.

The incident in stanza four derives not from Mickey Kallison but from a conversation with Tim Bissinger, 'the tough guy math teacher,' that took place while we were waiting on a subway platform in 1971.

Finally, it was actually my stepmother Jay who volunteered at the Weiss Hospitalgift shop. Her maiden name was Zebelman ('onion person.')

Special Bonus! Do you ever have trouble waking your children up in the morning so they can get to school on time? The following video is a rock version of the Romanian national anthem sung by an aggregation of Romanian television personalities. Just play it at high volume and watch your kids come flying out of bed like pigeons escaping from a coop. And for you, the video can also be great for overcoming a case of the afternoon "blahs."

August 16, 2010

This is the most exciting, most challenging project I've ever come up with -- a full-length autobiography in the form of an SAT test! As the video clip below explains, I will share all the fascinating details of my so-called life using multiple choice questions of various kinds. And just like they used to tell you before the real SAT test, there's no "passing" grade. You can get every question wrong and still go to Harvard!

It will all be here in question and answer form -- all the triumphs and tragedies, all the pratfalls and pirouettes. Some of them are easy, some of them are hard. Please watch the clip below to learn more --->>>

"My Life As A Test" will be simple, fun, and (I hope) informative. But find out for yourself. Below is a sample question from the test. If you're really sharp, you should be able to answer it even without any other information. If you can't answer it right now, don't be discouraged. The test itself -- and the answer section that comes with it -- will be its own best teacher.

Here's the question, followed by another explanatory video --->>>

Between September 30, 1981, and September 30, 1984, how many times did Mitchell have sexual intercourse?

a: 0b: 4c: 116d: 12,000e: none of the above

I'll be posting more questions soon. Eventually there will be an actual book just like the ones from Kaplan and Princeton Review. (I should live that long!)